Saturday, July 29, 2017

Last week I explained why I challenged the common myth about the peaceful reception of Guy de Lusignan on Cyprus. There is, however, another
“mystery” which I seek to explain in The Last Crusader Kingdom, namely, the roots of the
Ibelin influence on Cyprus.

Historians
such as Edbury posit that the Ibelins were inveterate opponents of the
Lusignans until the early 13th century. They note that there is no record of Ibelins setting foot on the
island of Cyprus before 1210 and insist that it is “certain” they were not
among the early settlers―while admitting that it is impossible to draw up a complete
list of the early settlers. Edbury, furthermore, admits that “it is not
possible to trace [the Ibelin’s] rise in detail” yet argues it was based on
close ties to King Hugh I. Close? Hugh was the son of a cousin, which in my
opinion is not terribly “close” kinship.

Even more difficult to understand
in the conventional version of events is that the Ibelins became so powerful and entrenched that within
just seven years (1217) of their supposed “first appearance” on
Cyprus an Ibelin was appointed regent of
Cyprus, presumably with the consent of the Cypriot High Court--that is the
barons and bishops of the island who had supposedly been on the island far
longer and over the heads of King's first cousin. I
don’t think that’s credible.

My thesis and the basis of this
novel is that while the Ibelins (that is, Baldwin and Balian d’Ibelin) were inveterate opponents of Guy de Lusignan, they were on friendly
terms with Aimery de Lusignan. Aimery
was, for a start, married to Baldwin’s daughter, Eschiva. We
have references, furthermore, to them “supporting” Aimery as late as Saladin’s
invasion of 1183. I think the Ibelins were very capable of distinguishing
between the two Lusignan brothers, and judging Aimery for his own strengths rather
than condemning him for his brother’s weaknesses.

Furthermore, the conventional
argument that Balian d’Ibelin died in late 1193 because he disappears from the
charters of the Kingdom of Jerusalem at that date is reasonable -- but not
compelling. The fact that Balian d’Ibelin disappears from the records of the
Kingdom of Jerusalem in 1193 may mean
that he died, but it could just as easily mean that he was occupied elsewhere. The Ibelin brothers of the next generation, John and Philip, "disappear" from the records of Jerusalem from 1210 to 1217 too, but they were very much alive, active and powerful -- one in Beirut and the other apparently on Cyprus.

Balian's disappearance from the records of Jerusalem could also have been because he busy on Cyprus. The lack of documentary proof for
his presence on Cyprus is not grounds for dismissing the possibility of his
presence there because 1) the Kingdom of Cyprus did not yet exist so there was no
chancery and no elaborate system for keeping records, writs and charters etc.,
and 2) those who would soon make Cyprus a kingdom were probably busy fighting
100,000 outraged Orthodox Greeks on the island!

But why would Balian d’Ibelin go
to Cyprus at this time?

Because his wife, Maria Comnena, was a Byzantine
princess. Not just that, she was related to the last Greek “emperor” of the island, Isaac
Comnenus.She spoke Greek, understood
the mentality of the population, and probably had good ties (or could forge
them) to the Greek/Orthodox elites, secular and ecclesiastical, on the island. She
had the means to help Aimery pacify his unruly realm, and Balian was a proven
diplomat par excellence, who would also have been a great asset to Aimery.

If one accepts that Guy de
Lusignan failed to pacify the island in his short time as lord, then what would
have been more natural than for his successor, Aimery, to appeal to his wife’s
kin for help in getting a grip on his unruly inheritance?

If Balian d’Ibelin and Maria
Comnena played a role in helping Aimery establish his authority on Cyprus, it
is nearly certain they would have been richly rewarded with lands/fiefs on
the island once the situation settled down. Such feudal holdings would have
given the Ibelins a seat on the High Court of Cyprus, which explains their
influence on it. Furthermore, these Cypriot estates would most likely have
fallen to their younger son, Philip, because their first born son, John, was
heir to their holdings in the Kingdom of Jerusalem.John was first Constable of Jerusalem, then Lord of
the hugely important port city of Beirut, and finally, after King Aimery’s death,
became regent of the Kingdom of Jerusalem for his neice.
Philip, on the other hand, was constable of Cyprus
and later regent of Cyprus for Henry I ― notably despite the fact that his
elder brother was still alive at the time.

Last but not least, no historian
is able to explain why Aimery de Lusignan named John d’Ibelin Constable of
Jerusalem in 1198, when John was just 19 years old. It has been suggested that
the appointment was “just nominal” and didn’t carry real authority―but
there is no evidence of this. On the contrary, the position clearly was powerful throughout the preceding
century. Furthermore, even if nominal, why would Aimery appoint the young
Ibelin to such a prestigious and lucrative post if Ibelins and Lusignans were
still, as historians insist, bitter enemies?

Postulating a personal friendship between Aimery and John, on the other
hand, would explain it. Given their age differences, the relationship of lord
and squire is the most plausible explanation. Furthermore, the relationship of
lord/squire brought men very close and gave each great insight into the
personality, strengths and weaknesses of the other. It was also common for
youths to serve a relative, and so quite logical for John would serve his
cousin’s husband.

While this is all speculation, it
is reasonable and does not contradict what is in the historical record. It is
only in conflict with what modern historians have postulated based on a paucity
of records. I hope, therefore, that readers will enjoy following me down this
speculative road as I explore what might
have happened in these critical years at the close of the 12th
century.

Saturday, July 22, 2017

The early history of the Kingdom
of Cyprus is largely lost in the mists of time, and much of what we think we
know―or what is currently accepted in academic circles―is dubious.

My novel, The Last Crusader Kingdom, looks at both the founding of the Kingdom
of Cyprus in the years 1193-1199 from a new perspective and challenges conventional wisdom. It is based on two revisionist theses (that I hope to develop more fully in a later non-fiction book on the subject.) The first of those thesis is presented below.

We know that Richard I of
England, having conquered Cyprus in May 1191, sold it to the Knights Templar
for 100,000 bezants in July of the same year. According to Peter Edbury, the
leading modern historian of medieval Cyprus, their rule was “rapacious and
unpopular,” resulting in a revolt in April 1192. Although a Templar sortie
temporarily scattered the rebels, the causes of the revolt were hardly
addressed and the latent threat of continued/renewed violence was clear. In the
circumstances, the Grand Master of the Templars recognized that his Order would
have to invest considerable manpower to regain control of the island.He also recognized that he did not have the
resources to fight in both Cyprus and
Syria. In consequence, he gave precedence (as he must) to the struggle on the
mainland, the Holy Land itself, against the Saracens. The Templars duly
returned the island to Richard of England.

Richard promptly sold the island
a second time, this time to Guy de Lusignan. Guy de Lusignan had been crowned
and anointed King of Jerusalem in 1186 in a coup d’etat engineered by his wife,
Sibylla. Although widely viewed as a usurper, the bulk of the barons submitted
to his rule in order to fight united against the much superior forces of
Saladin that threatened the Kingdom. Guy, however, proceeded to prove the low-opinion
of his barons correct by promptly leading the entire Christian army to an
avoidable defeat on the Horns of Hattin on July 4, 1187. He spent roughly a
year in Saracen captivity, while his Kingdom fell city by city and castle by
castle to Saladin, until only the city of Tyre remained. Needless to say, this
further discredited him with the surviving barons, prelates, and burghers of
his kingdom. His claim to the crown of Jerusalem was undermined fatally when
his wife, through whom he had gained it, died in November 1190. Although Guy
continued to style himself “King of Jerusalem,” a fiction at first bolstered by
King Richard of England’s support, by April 1192 King Richard gave up on
him. Bowing to the High Court of Jerusalem, Richard acknowledged
Conrad de Montferrat as King of Jerusalem. The sale of Cyprus to Guy was,
therefore, a means of compensating him for the loss of his kingdom of
Jerusalem.

Guy may have left for Cyprus at
once, in which case he would have arrived in April 1192.However, this is far from certain because the Third Crusade was still being conducted. It is unlikely that Guy would have
been able to convince many knights to accompany him as long as Richard the
Lionheart was still fighting for Jerusalem and Jaffa. A more likely date for
Guy’s arrival on Cyprus is therefore October 1192, after Richard’s departure
for the West.

Guy was apparently accompanied by
a small group of Frankish lords and knights whose lands had been lost to
Saladin in 1187/1188 and not been recaptured in the course of the Third
Crusade. The names of only a few are known. These include Humphrey de Toron,
Renier de Jubail, Reynald Barlais, Walter de Bethsan, and Galganus de Cheneché.
(Guy's older brother Aimery is notably absent.)

Guy would have arrived on an island that
was either still in a state of open rebellion or completely lawless. Admittedly, historian George Hill
(who was actually an expert in ancient history, coins and iconography rather
than a medievalist), tries to explain how Guy arrived on an island eagerly
awaiting him by inventing (that is the only word one can use since he sites no
source) the story that the Templars “slew the Greeks indiscriminately like
sheep; a number of Greeks who sought asylum in a church were massacred; the
mounted Templars rode through [Nicosia] spitting on their lances everyone they
could reach; the streets ran with blood…The Templars rode through the land,
sacking villages and spreading desolation, for the population of both cities
and villages fled to the mountains.” (George Hill, A History of Cyprus, Volume 2: The Frankish Period 1192 – 1432,”
Cambridge University Press, 1948, p. 37.)

There’s a serious problem with
this lurid tale. (Quite aside from the technical one of lances being unsuitable for spitting multiple victims.) As Hill himself admits, the Templars had just fourteen knights
on Cyprus and 29 sergeants; the Greek population
of the island at this time, however, was roughly 100,000. Yes, in a surprise sortie to fight their way
out of Nicosia and flee to Acre (as we know they did), the Templars would surely
have killed many civilians, including innocent ones. It is unlikely, however, that
the fleeing Templars would have taken the time to stop and slaughter people
collected in a church; that would have given the far more numerous armed insurgents (who
had forced them to seek refuge in their commandery in the first place) to
rally, attack and kill them. They certainly did not have the time and resources
to slaughter people in other cities and towns scattered over nearly 10,000 square
kilometers of island. In short, we can be sure the Templars slaughtered enough
people to be remembered with hatred, but not enough to break the resistance to
Latin rule, much less to denude the island of its population. If nothing else,
if they had broken the resistance, they would not have fled to Acre, admitted
defeat and urged the Grand Chapter to return Cyprus to Richard of England!

Despite the absurdity of the
notion that Guy arrived on a peaceful island willing to receive him without
resistance, most histories today repeat a charming story. Namely: as soon as Guy
arrived on Cyprus he sent to his arch-enemy Saladin for advice on how to rule
it. What is more, the ever chivalrous and wise Sultan graciously responded that
“if he wants the island to be secure he must give it all away.” (See Edbury, The Kingdom of Cyprus and the Crusades, 1191
– 1374, Cambridge University Press, 1991, p. 16.) Allegedly, based on this
advice, Guy invited settlers from all the Christian countries of the eastern
Mediterranean to settle on Cyprus, offering everyone rich rewards and making
them marry the local women. According to this fairy tale, the disposed peoples
of Syria, both high and low, flooded to Cyprus and were rewarded with rich
fiefs, until Guy had only enough land to support just 20 household knights, but
after that everyone lived happily ever after.

History isn’t like that, although―often―there
is a kernel of truth in such legends. I think it is fair to assume that very
many of the men and women who had lost their lands and livelihoods to the
Saracens after Hattin did eventually
come to settle on Cyprus, but I question that they arrived in the first two
years after Guy acquired the island. The reason I doubt this is simple. The Knights
Templar had just abandoned the island because it would be too costly, time-consuming and difficult to pacify.In short, whoever came to Cyprus with Guy in
early or late 1192 would not have
found an empty island―much less one full of happy natives waiting to welcome
them with song and flowers. On the contrary, they were already in active rebellion against the
Templars and ready to resist further attempts by the Latins to control and
dominate them. Perhaps the one sentence about making the settlers marry local
women is a hint to a more chilling reality: that after years of resistance to Latin rule, when the settlers finally came they found a local population with
few young men but many widows.

Furthermore, we know that at no
time in his life did Guy de Lusignan distinguish himself by wisdom or common
sense. He had alienated his brother-in-law King Baldwin IV and nearly the
entire High Court of Jerusalem within just three years of his marriage to
Sibylla.He lost his entire kingdom in a
disastrous and unnecessary campaign less than a year after he was crowned king.
He started a strategically nonsensical siege of Acre that consumed crusader
lives and resources for three years. He did nothing of note the entire time
Richard the Lionheart was in the Holy Land. Is it really credible that he then
took control of a rebellious island (that the Templars thought beyond their
capacity to pacify) and set everything right in less than two years?

I think not. And Guy had only two years because he died in
1194, either in April/May or toward the end of the year depending on which source
one consults. That is too little time even for a more competent leader to be the
architect of Cyprus’ success. That honor belongs, I believe, to his older
brother, the ever competent Aimery de Lusignan, who was lord of Cyprus not two
years but eleven.

It was certainly Aimery, who obtained
a crown by submitting the island to the Holy Roman Emperor, and it was Aimery
who established a Latin church hierarchy on the island. Indeed, there is ample
evidence of Aimery’s able administration of both Cyprus and, from 1197 to 1205,
the Kingdom of Jerusalem as well.It was
Aimery de Lusignan who collected the oral tradition for the laws of Jerusalem
(that had worked so well) and had them written down in a legal codex known as The Book of the King.Thus, it was Aimery, who founded not only the
dynasty that would last three hundred years, but also laid the legal and
institutional foundations that would serve Cyprus so well into the 15th
century. It is, in my opinion, far more likely that it was Aimery, not Guy, who
brought settlers in―after first pacifying the native population and institutionalizing
tolerance for the Orthodox church that mirrored the customs of the
Kingdom of Jerusalem. It is this thesis that forms the basis of : The Last Crusader Kingdom: Founding of a Dynasty in 12th Century Cyprus.

My second revisionist thesis concerning the Ibelins will be the subject of my next entry.

Followers

Which of the below descriptions would be most likely to induce you to take a closer look at the book described?

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Where Eagles Never Flew: A Battle of Britain Novel

Radio communication and a highly specialized jargon makes the dialogue in this novel particularly critical.

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One of several young officers prepared to sacrifice his own life in order to assassinate Hitler and put an end to his murderous regime. He makes a cameo appearance in "Hitler's Demons."

"B" Flight, 85 Squadron

When I came across this photo of "B" Flight, 85 Squadron, I recognized Robin, the RAF hero in "Where Eagles Never Flew" immediately.

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Likewise, this photo hit me like deja vu! This photo shows two Luftwaffe fighter pilots take a break during the Battle of Britain: for me they are Christian and Dieter from "Where Eagles Never Flew."

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FOREWORD INDIES AWARD FINALIST 2017

"Envoy of Jerusalem" is a finalist for the Foreword Indies Awards 2017 in the category Wartime and Military Fiction.

FOREWORD INDIES AWARD FINALIST 2017

"Envoy of Jerusalem" is a finalist for the Foreword Indies Awards 2017 in the category Wartime and Military Fiction.

The telling of good deeds is like alms and charity. It is never lost labour but always has its return.
Chandos' Herald, ca. 1385